Fake Smiles
by Aquinox
Summary: It's getting just a little harder, to remember his smile, his mask, to ignore the little voice in his head. Just a little harder to remember his duty, his mission. He was no Destroyer of Time. Just a little Bookman who grew a heart. Temporarily Complete


Author's Note: Okay, I forgot where I said I was going to post 'Perspective', so I decided to post it under Befallings nonetheless. But since I promised new stories for both accounts, here's a little... drabble, of sorts, that I coughed up once upon a boring office-afternoon. Have fun reading.

**Disclaimer: **_Honestly don't see the point of putting this up. _

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**WARNING:** _Dark thoughts. Heartlessness. Psycho-analysis... possible Shounen-ai? Depends on how you interpret it. _

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Fake Smiles

i.  
_Home Is Where The Heart Is_

The stars were pretty tonight. A gentle puff of your cheeks turned the glass hazy. You frowned. You didn't like hazy. Hazy meant uncertainty. Hazy meant… you didn't know what's in front of you.

Hazy… would probably be a good way to describe your current situation.

A sigh. Rustle of sheets. You flopped back onto your bed and glared at the ceiling as if it was at fault.

Your thoughts went back, back to when you first arrived at the Order. Things weren't hazy then. They were clear, crystal clear, your mission, your purpose, everything. It was, after all, just another _duty_ that you were bound to and you'd be damned if you screwed up this one, because those kicks really, really hurt.

It was supposed to be just another observation, just another fucking War, just another reason for bloody humans to wreck havoc and cause destruction.

And you'd be the everlasting observer that will watch, and watch, and write down History as it was meant to be written. The real truth. Naked. Ugly. Utterly painful.

Then, _that_ happened.

You cursed, softly, colourfully, in five different languages including Kanda's native tongue. A rueful smile, mocking, carved itself onto your face.

You were never meant to _bond_. Hell, you didn't think you COULD bond. They were just faces, ink on paper. Mister Ponytail was just another teen with anger management problems, Miss Pigtails was just another girl with a dark past, Mister White Hair was just another prophesized saviour.

None were supposed to matter.

Especially not _him_.

A hand covered your face before you realized it was your own. Fingers found the lid of your left eye and you grimaced. _That_ was one memory lane you refused to saunter down.

But then, you were never meant to develop _emotions_ and _feelings_ and actually feel _worried _and _angry_ when you heard Allen was supposedly dead. Most of all, you weren't meant to feel _sad_.

_Just another face. Just another person, lost in battle, in a War he's far too young to be fighting._

You weren't meant to feel the same _fear_, same _worry_, you weren't meant to feel so _hurt_ and _morose_ when Kanda forced all of you to leave him to deal with the Noah of Wrath.

_Just another face. Doing what he does best, what he was born to do._

You weren't meant to feel _guilty_ or _anguish_ when you realized that you had hurt your (friends) acquaintances, and you caused Lenalee to cry when you burned (protected) Allen with your Innocence.

_Just another face. One who feels too much, who wants to keep her world safe._

You weren't meant to feel fear when you found out that Kanda's Lotus was withering at a faster pace than it was supposed to be (he chose it to be that way). You weren't meant to feel pain when Allen is suspected of treason and placed under supervision (it's for his own good). You weren't meant to feel regret every time you see Lenalee's short hair that never grew back after that battle with the Akuma (she doesn't want it long, it'll get in the way).

Most of all, you weren't supposed to be kept all night (can't sleep, too much on your mind) contemplating (mulling) over these… feelings (just another pretence) and emotions (make them believe this identity) that you've been plagued with (makes 'Lavi' more real, so as to observe better).

You weren't meant to develop a heart.

Fingers brushed the spot above said heart, and you shuddered. _He _was back again, you didn't know how to deal with this, how to ignore the soft, seductive whispers that filled your ears and penetrated your mind, lowering your shields and making you _feel_ even more.

Fear. Regret. Pain. Sorrow.  
Happiness. Contentment. Companionship. Hope.  
Guilt. Worry.  
Trust.

Love.

Your body jerked as an unfamiliar sensation coursed through where you think your heart is meant to be. You whispered something (stop it), _he_ laughed. You didn't know what you said, but _he_ always knows (never). You tried to back away, away from this _feeling_ (go away, stop it… you're not really here, it's all in my mind) and _he_ will have that oh so smug smirk on his face, telling you that if you really wanted, you would have stopped all these already.

You paused.

_He_ smiled. _Did you really think, there could be smoke without fire?_

_No, I thought not.  
_

Pain filled your being and you jerk awake, gasping. Light filtered through the window. 'Lavi's' room was, contrary to popular belief, not a mess. There was barely anything in the room. A table. A chair. A bed. A cupboard. No pictures (photographic memories make the best cameras), no little trinkets (inks on paper, gifts don't matter), no random pot of flower or something, _anything_, to make it feel like home (home is where the heart is. No heart. No home).

Distantly, you could hear the swish of a sword (your hearing is better than you let on) and the muffled arguments that could penetrate even the thickest of the Order's walls. You hear footsteps clack past your bedroom and the aroma of coffee drifted like some dark temptress through the air.

It was a new day.

_He_ smiles from the shadows.

You don't know if you were just afraid (no heart, no fear) or sceptical (only things that can be seen existed) or if you just didn't want to face the facts.

The face in the mirror looks so foreign to you.

You smiled.

_That's right, boy. Smile. Smile so that they won't know who you really are. Smile so they won't know that every night, you drown yourself in pain and misery, wanting to _feel_ despite it being forbidden to do so. Smile, little Bookman, and feel your soul break in two.  
_

After all, 'Lavi', was just ink on paper.

Just another face, in a war of innocent sorrow.

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Author's Note: That... was fun to write. So, should I continue this? I have no plot in mind... was just thinking of perhaps, adding another chapter to explain what the heck is going on up there. Personally, I'm a Lucky fan... but this one is NOT written with that in mind. What do know who the 'him' in the 'Especially no _him_' line is? Then drop a review in the box down south, thank you.

Who knows, I MIGHT put up a full story...


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